Cut and Paste
by emeraldoni
Summary: Moments caught in time, expressions of character, every lost second in the Feudal Era, all caught up in a collage of drabbles, just for you...'InuYasha'...
1. In the End

**In the End**

By: emeraldoni

_Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha_

He's such an idiot, a moron! He always yells at me, snapping at me for absolutely nothing. His eyes glint with maliciousness as his aura crackles and pops with insults aimed my way.

You're useless he cries! You don't do anything he spouts!

I'm always going too slow, never fast enough. My voice is too loud, I need to shut up. My skirt is too short. My bag is too heavy. I coddle everyone too much!

Dammit! All I hear is complaint after complaint after complaint. I'm never good enough. It's never enough.

It's pretty stupid, because at the end of the day, with the setting sun matching his red cheeks, ears flat against his head, he whispers in my ear, with a kiss against my cheek.

"_I love you."_

And all is forgiven.

**Oooo0000OOOO0000oooO**

**A/N: **This will just be a series of a little drabbles. No promises of updates, just when the muse hits me and when I want to post it, without the trouble of writing a long piece.

A note to those who are reading my AU GaaxSaku story: I will try to get the chapter up soon. This, and the other short little drabble I wrote, are just five minute breaks from studying, HW, etc…

Until next time…

emeraldoni


	2. Washed away Whispers

**Washed away Whispers**

By: emeraldoni

_Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha._

Rain thundered again dripping stone as rushing rivulets poured through small dips in the ground. Darkened skies screamed with unruly outrage as they let loose on hidden homes and quivering creatures caught in the torrential downpour. Lighting flashed, revealing one staggering person on their knees as the confusion of the storm only reflected their emotion.

She heaved slightly as thick mud cloaked her fingers with a second skin. Sopping hair clung to her neck and shoulders, falling past her face to mingle with the flooding ground. A steady stream of tears fell down blanched cheeks, unnoticed as they mingled with the crying of the sky.

"InuYasha…" She whispered, hunching over her knees as the dampness soaked into her panties and skirt, her rear flat in the ground, quickly forming into a quick.

"This wasn't supposed to happen… InuYasha…" A sob forced its way out of her thickening throat, constriction welling up in her chest, her neck, her nose, until another sob painfully pushed its way out.

Cold eyes flashed before her own pained orbs, her heart bleeding painfully over a scene that she couldn't rid herself of. Over and over it replayed in her mind, endless in its torture, cutting and scarring in a way never meant to be healed.

_Too much, too much…_

It was all too much. The entanglement of silver and shadow, the embrace of love resulting in an action of hate.

"_I love you…" _He had whispered, a strangled unlike his normally abrasive voice. The voice she dreamed about, her savior, her companion, her friend, her love.

Her betrayer.

"_I love you…"_ He whispered, his claws wrapped in coal black hair as golden orbs narrowed in affection and sadness. Pale hands returned the desperate embrace, slowly warming up in the living heat of his body.

"_I love you…" _He whispered, _"Kikyo…"_

Wind whipped around her as she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to rid her self of the damned plague of unwelcome thoughts.

"Stop it." She muttered, her voice tight and breathless as forceful current of air stole the vibrations of her voice away from her. Her face stung as though bees had attacked her, or she had been slapped, yet was just a welcome distraction from words she didn't wish to speak.

Water rose as she hunched over, grasping her head in an attempt to shake away the nightmare, to believe in something that was not reality. To believe in a dream that had peppered her life since the moment she had fallen into the time-encompassing fate.

_Go away, go away…_

"Save me," she cried silently as echoes of hurt radiated off her small, smothered body, "Help me…" she whispered.

Coolness, soothing coolness. Her body slowly stopped shivering as the currents of water and debris moved about her, below her, above her. She floated away, relaxing as somehow what mattered didn't matter so much anymore, as her pain was washed away.

"InuYasha…" Whispered a bubble, popping at the surface of a pond, echoing in the calming wind and slowing rains.

_I love you…_

**Oooo000OOO000oooO**

**A/N:** Did you understand? I hope so. Okay, I have to finish my HW now.


	3. Half and Half

**Half and Half**

By: emeraldoni

_Disclaimer: InuYasha belongs to Rumiko Takashashi, not me. _

**A/N: **Similar to my Naruto drabbles, if anyone wants to request a keyword, theme, pairing, etc… message me or leave it in a review. If not, I'll do whatever.

0

There is a mirror, two images pose as one while they stare deep into each others eyes. Eyes so similar. Eyes so different.

Her image moves, and she follows, uncontrollable, invisible strings connected to her own unstable limbs, their heart hanging between them, impaled on a darkened spear. Half is red, half is purple—half is pure, half is rotten.

She whispers something. They whisper something. Eyes glitter, one with pain, the other with tears. Sorrows twist their lips. The heart in-between them beats slightly, a pulse that glows with strings now visible, pale and evanescent.

There is a mirror, an image poses as two while they stare away from one another, reviling the thread that connects them to there selves. Bodies the same. Souls so similar.

Two bodies, one soul.

They tug on the strings, blindingly bright, and the heart tears. The mirror cracks, their faces change. One is hardened and scarred; the other is open and bleeding. So similar. So different.

One is past, the other is future.

They tug and tear, and the heart rips in two. One half is red. One half is purple. One half is pure. One half is rotten. Split down the middle. Mirror images—each hold one half.

One is pure. One is rotten.

One is bleeding. One is scarred.

They both walk away. Mirror images, one in two, two in one, mimicking and reviling the other. There footsteps are the same, the same pace, same distance. Neither looks back.

One is bleeding. One is scarred.

Both of them hold half a heart.


	4. Maybe

**Maybe**

_I am lost to the warmth of the past, and bleed in the presence of the future._

He thinks she's the most beautiful thing in the world. Her eyes are soft and warm and understanding, and he can fall into them, melting away as his soul becomes one with hers. He thinks that she is the reason he is still alive, _she _is the one was his savior, a goddess to him when he was a mere bug. And he loves her more than anything because of this. He loves her more than the wind and the trees, more than when the moon is gone and his demon blood sings. He loves her more than the freedom of movement itself.

He would sacrifice his life for her. He would sacrifice everything for her. He would kill for her.

If forced to, he would sacrifice her love for him, only for her.

Because that's the way it is, the way it was. He loves her more than words and speech, and it's just those words that could never express the thing he feels that leaves him speechless and alone. Sometimes it makes his eyes water, sometimes it makes him bleed. Sometimes it's as simple as the flushing of his cheeks, or a shocked blink, or even the flip of his stomach and pitter-patter of his heart when she leans her shoulder against his.

And, yet, he can never be with her. He can never do her justice, because he is restricted by the past, as she by the future.

The bonds that chain him to the death of her sister in soul holds him back from taking her as his own, from making her happy, because he could never do that. Her joy is a fragile bud, so beaten and wilted, but ready to bloom all the same. Maybe a haphazard wolf or buzzing bee might be able to fulfill her, but he will always be left behind, because he is not the one for her, no matter what she thinks.

And he has to remind himself of this when she smiles at him, when she whispers in his ear, or snuggles the top of her head into the crook of his neck. It's so hard, he thinks.

If only things could be different, of only there couldn't be two of them, two woman—his heart shackled to both. He thinks that maybe this is fate, his punishment for being an abomination to humanity. Maybe that's way he's been cursed so.

One his dead, but that means nothing when their memories live.

And so he only thinks on her beauty and the way he loves her. He will never act, just muse over her loveliness, and the way she melts him on the inside.

Maybe in their next life, things will different. Maybe he will meet her in the future and they will be happy, and he can make her content with life—instead of consuming her with paranoia over the other shackle attached to his heart. Maybe he would love her without restraint then.

He thinks he'll muse on that too.

_Memories consume, but I am saved by what could be—what I have with you._


End file.
